


Battlefield

by sky_blue_hightops



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Amazing, Anyways, Breaking and Entering, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Adopts Connor, Hank Anderson Swears, Hurt Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Hurt/Comfort, Parent Hank Anderson, Protective Connor, Whump, Worried Hank Anderson, i love these tags a lot, i love these two so much, ok im done sorry lol, sumo is literally best dog, there are so many good tags i just now am finding, this time sumo loves connor with every fiber of his being, where?? are all of these coming from??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 22:32:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15277593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_blue_hightops/pseuds/sky_blue_hightops
Summary: CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 71%That would have to do. He didn't have enough time for more scanning. He crossed into the kitchen as quietly as possible, the socks on his feet helping him step noiselessly until he was a mere two feet from the unstable woman.X RESTRAINO DISARMBoth could result in success or failure. Connor paused, then attacked.





	Battlefield

Connor woke to a face full of Saint Bernard fur, and wondered what had roused him. Light beams from car headlights washed over the floorboards at regular intervals, just barely lighting the room enough to let Connor see that it was empty save the android and his dog. _Why had his rest mode been disengaged?_

Sumo, disturbed by Connor's movements, snuffled and raised his head. Connor gave the large dog a few conciliatory pats on the head before gently pushing the dog off his lap. With his legs free, he stood up. A broad scan of the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary - everything was as it should be. But something nagged at him. What was wrong?

A small noise from the kitchen. Connor's auditory sensors quickly picked up on the rustling sound. And there it was- the thing nagging at him that he only just noticed was the underlying sound of someone's breathing. Quick, panicked breathing. Hank was sound asleep in his room with the door closed, and Sumo's breathing was deep and slow. 

Connor slowly, carefully stepped towards the kitchen, LED yellow as he tried to scan the source of the breathing. He frowned when his scans bounced back - he was operating at relatively low energy levels, so his scans were unable to pick up anything outside the room he was currently in. Another few steps and he was pressed up against the wall by the opening leading to the kitchen, tucked just out of sight of the intruder. He stilled for a moment, relaxing as much as possible to let his processes quiet down so he would be audibly undetectable, before peering around the corner.

The intruder - Kayla Wilkins, 43 years of age, female, 143 lbs, BAC of 0.13, body containing relatively large amounts of red ice - didn't notice Connor, fully focused in rummaging around in Hank's kitchen cabinets. Wilkins was muttering to herself, body trembling and heavily under the influence of a bad combination of alcohol and red ice. Her judgement was severely impaired, and Connor had no doubt she wouldn't hesitate to use fatal force on the inhabitants of this house.

**> >TASK: KEEP INTRUDER FROM LIVING ROOM OR HANK'S BEDROOM.**

**> >TASK: INCAPACITATE INTRUDER.**

**> >TASK: APPREHEND INTRUDER.**

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 60%

He had to act fast before she lost interest in the kitchen and moved elsewhere. Her movement to any other room would put Hank or Sumo at high risk. Hank, especially, would be suffering from the reduced reflexes and judgement that came with being violently woken up at 2:31 AM. 

Connor paused for a moment to conduct another scan; there, tucked into her belt, was a well-kept kitchen knife. Judging by the pristine condition of the metal and the plastic handle, there was a 79% chance it was the intruder's only weapon and Wilkins had taken care to keep it intact. 

CHANCE OF SUCCESS: 71%

That would have to do. He didn't have enough time for more scanning. He crossed into the kitchen as quietly as possible, the socks on his feet helping him step noiselessly until he was a mere two feet from the unstable woman.

**X RESTRAIN**

**O DISARM**

Both could result in success or failure. Connor paused, then attacked. One hand clapped over her mouth to prevent her from yelling out while the other reached for her wrists to restrain her. She struggled in his grip, bloodshot eyes wide with desperation. He attempted to bring her to the ground when his sensors erupted into chaos. Pain? Pain spread across his left arm. He could feel thirium stream down his left fingers, and looked down.

The knife was stuck firmly in his left forearm, weakening his hold on her wrists. She shrugged him off and withdrew the knife to stab again. He rolled away and got to his feet, ignoring the warnings and static in his vision about his now-unusable left arm. 

Intruder and defender stood across from each other for a moment, one breathing heavily and the other bleeding heavily. Wilkins' eyes cut to the living room; Connor saw blue and lunged, punching the intruder in the face and when she went down, kicking her in the ribs with a brutal _crunch_. He was about to kick again when she grabbed his leg and pulled him down - his head hit the ground hard enough to short out his optical input for 0.4 seconds, and when it came back online, static almost fully crowded his vision.

Wilkins climbed on top of him, stabbing him twice in the abdomen - both hits caused his sensory network to _explode._ His auditory input whined, high and shrill and disorienting as thirium pooled around him on the kitchen floor. He coughed, blue blood leaking from his mouth, his still-functional hand moving to press against his wounds. 

SHUTDOWN IMMINENT. SEEK AID. CONTACT NEAREST CYBERLIFE ESTABLISHMENT FOR REPAIRS.

Another cough, to clear his airway. His processes were leaving him, one by one - his fingers were growing numb. His eyes slipped shut. Wilkins looked upset, looked as if she may do something drastic, and Connor felt fear grip his internal biocomponents. _What could he do?_ He tilted his head to the side, dazed, watching a small red light bounce off the ever-growing puddle of thirium. _Who could he call?_

A sharp bark from the living room. Connor's hand twitched. _Sumo._ Relief flooded his circuits. He struggled to draw in air, only inhaling enough to whisper out a "S-Sumo, ah-" He winced, back arching off the ground. Wilkins was fully panicking, knife in a white-knuckled grip and face speckled with blue blood. "Attack," he commanded with the last of the air he had inhaled.

It happened so fast Connor's lagging processors couldn't keep up. The giant Saint Bernard barreled into the kitchen with speed Connor would had never expected from him, mouth open wide in a snarl. Wilkins didn't have time to react, knife skittering across the linoleum floor as Sumo sank his teeth into her arm. Connor drifted on the floor, vision cutting in and out. The fight continued somewhere over his head. _Where was he? The kitchen_ , he recalled, feeling the sticky floor under his fingers. Another snarl, the sound of cloth ripping, a shout of pain. _He really needed to sleep_ , his sensors told him. _Rest mode was what he needed, right then._ A flurry of loud barks pierced his failing auditory input.

Light flooded into the kitchen. An angry voice shouted from the opening to the hallway. The sound of a gun cocking, the sound of glass breaking, the sound of a windowpane creaking under 143 lbs of weight. A warm tongue rasped over his face again and again. "Connor?" Cursing, then warm hands joined the warm tongue in attempting to rouse him. "Connor!"

Connor stirred, fighting to keep his eyes open. His head swam. Gravity pulled at his limbs with a strength he had never felt before. "Hank?" The older detective's face, creased with concern and exhaustion, hovered above him. Hank pulled him into a sitting position, and he hissed as the movement tugged at his wounds. "Are you okay?"

Hank blinked before a smile cut through the concern. "I should be the one asking you that, idiot," he replied. Connor tried to return the fond smile before remembering the **LOW THIRIUM** warning flashing brightly in his vision. Oh, yes. He needed thirium. Hank also seemed aware of this fact, the concerned look taking over once more as he eyed the large thirium puddle coating his kitchen floor blue. "Wait here for a second."

Connor obliged easily, head lolling back into the cupboards supporting him as Hank left for the bathroom cabinet of thirium. Sumo settled into his right side, presence warm and large and heavy. Connor wrapped his good arm around Sumo's neck, content to drift with his face in the old dog's fur. "Good boy, Sumo," he murmured, eyes closed.

Sumo woofed softly and nosed Connor's hair before gently dropping his head on top of Connor's, tail flicking lazily and eyes watching carefully.

**Author's Note:**

> the only reason it's called battlefield is bc i was listening to a song. called battlefield anyway  
> request for connor getting hurt by an intruder and sumo saving the day!! bc Sumo is Best Dog  
> i sincerely apologize for all the tags but it makes me happy they exist


End file.
